Dame them all.

The gray heads of old, nature is now a luxury.

When once a Man could walk a bit, to seek refuge in the arms of our green and blue mother, no such thing now.

For the common Man, The Grays left them artificial exhibits of what once was nature. Nothing natural there. Every facet carefully placed to meet a standard, like a wheel for a hamster cage.

You reach a nook of true nature, only to see that it’s existence is not long, on death row awaiting it’s execution.

Oh pray tell! Surely something great must take it’s place! What is the exchange rate of life and shade? Doesn’t matter, never occurs to them who decide.

A Golf Course.

It makes sense now! Dame Nature! Dame those great green Elders, no no no!! Man needs an unobstructed plain so he can frolic after a little white ball that he paradoxically chases only to swing it away.

Gaia our sweet mother. Man has grown teeth, remove him from your breast.